


Requiescat in Pace

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Biting, Community: tamingthemuse, Humor, Light Masochism, M/M, POV: Spike, PWP, Rough Sex, Sacrilege
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Xander get down and dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiescat in Pace

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this fic taken from the Live Journal community Tamingthemuse prompt #419: Splatter  
>  **Notes:** _Requiescat in pace_ is Latin for _Rest in peace_.

Spike spun around, the straight razor in his hand slicing deep into the demon’s throat, sending thick, hot drops of blood splattering across the gravestone Harris was leaning against. 

“Hey!” 

Harris skipped to the side, his arms windmilling comically as he tripped over a clump of dirt or something. His plastic cup flew as he flailed, and the thing hit the same gravestone, chocolate milkshake sliding over the surface, smearing across the carving, and running down the words so painstakingly carved into the marble. Harvey something-or-other - RIP. Spike couldn’t read the rest; the chocolate was in the way. Not that it mattered. 

What mattered was the heavy scent of lust pouring off Harris, who always got a rush when Spike ‘got his slay on’ as the boy put it. He had a real hankering for a man with a violent streak. In other words, Harris liked to play rough, and that suited Spike to a T.

With the demon they’d been searching for down for the count, Spike wiped off his straight razor on the demon’s leg, and slipped it into his pocket. Harris was busy licking chocolate off his fingers, and Spike’s already half-hard cock stiffened at the sight. That tongue was damn talented. He ought to know.

Spike stepped up to Harris, and pulled his hand to Spike’s mouth, licking chocolate milkshake off his palm. If Harris could purr, he’d be doing so. Instead, he panted. His eyes were wide, and he moaned as Spike pulled one sticky finger into his mouth. Harris’ heart pounded in his ears, and when he nipped on the boy’s knuckle, he thought Harris was going to come right then and there. Well, that wouldn’t do.

Spike slid the finger out of his mouth, and pulled Harris to him, sucking on his bottom lip for a change of pace. The heat of Harris’ mouth seared Spike’s tongue, reminding him how much he liked being inside Harris’s heat – his mouth, his ass, they both suited Spike just fine. 

While Harris was busy sucking on his tongue, Spike unzipped his jeans, and pulled both jeans and boxers down around his knees. Before Harris knew what was happening, he had the boy bent over Harvey’s gravestone, two slick fingers up his ass.

“Spike! What are you doing?” Harris cried in surprise. 

“As if you don’t know,” Spike scoffed. He was up to three fingers, and he quickly pulled them out, slathering what slick was left on his fingers across his rock-hard cock. “We’ve been doing this for six months now, Harris. I’d think you’d have a clue, by this point.”

“I thought we’d agreed that after that last close call, when Buffy showed up within about ten seconds of getting a real eyeful, that we were going to avoid having sex in public places!” 

“You agreed,” Spike argued. “I said I’d think about it.”

“This is not…”

“Shhh,” Spike interrupted. “I’m thinking about it.” 

He’d intentionally kept the stretching to a minimum, so when he pushed into Harris, Spike knew that he felt the burn. The heavy moan brought a smile to Spike’s lips, and he set up a fast pace before Harris could possibly have become adjusted to his fat cock. 

“Oh, yeah. Harder, Spike!” he shouted. “Make it hurt.”

And he could. That was one of the good thing about having a masochist for a lover; even a chipped vamp like Spike could make Harris hurt, because he _loved_ the pain. He thrived on it, and nothing Spike had tried yet had caused the chip even the smallest twinge of reaction. 

Of course, Spike kept his wits about him. He had no doubt that a bullwhip, for instance, would do more damage than he could get away with. But so far, everything they’d tried had worked just fine. Besides, Spike had always loved the thrill of taking just one more chance, pushing things just as far as he possibly could. It made them the perfect pair.

He pinched Harris’ nipples sharply, the boy’s heat and the high, keening wail of his hunger driving Spike on to even fiercer exertion. Leaning over Harris’ back, Spike bit with dull, human teeth, scraping and sucking the nape of his neck until Xander let go of the headstone long enough to pull his shirt away, baring his scarred shoulder. Spike smiled against Harris’ neck, then struck true, biting into the meat of his shoulder with fangs extended, sending Harris spiraling into his orgasm, his come joining the blood and chocolate, splattering the gravestone. Rest in peace, Harvey.

“Oh, fuck yes!”

He only took a few gulps of Harris’ blood, but it was hot, and heavily spiced with adrenaline and lust. After a few more thrusts, Spike came, gasping over Harris’ back, ruffling the hair on the nape of his neck. He stayed there, lying heavily on top of Harris, enjoying the way the boy’s gasps shook Spike’s body. 

He watched the goose pimples form on Harris’ cooling skin, and sighed. He really ought to move before the Slayer came looking for them, although he loved the way Harris scrambled for his clothes whenever she showed up. Spike got the idea that Harris was beginning to suspect that he often waited until there was barely time enough before he warned Harris she was coming. So he thought he might ought to let him put his clothes back on earlier tonight, just to throw him off the scent.

“C’mon, Harris,” he said, prising the man’s white-knuckled grip off the headstone, “the Slayer will show up and ask for a threesome if we stay stretched out over this gravestone much longer.” 

Harris chuckled as he grabbed his jeans, trying to pull them up, while Spike pushed them back down again. He examined his handiwork – heavy bruises that never went away these days, a perfect match for Spike’s fingers on Harris’ hipbones. He pressed his thumbs into one bruise on each hip, and watched Harris’ pupils widen with lust, breathing in with a gasp.

“You coming over tonight?” Harris asked breathlessly. “I found a great new paddle when I was in LA yesterday, and a new set of nipple clamps I can’t wait to try out.” He wiggled his eyebrows comically, like the evil villain in some melodrama. 

Spike’s mouth split in a grin. Where the hell else could a vamp like him find such a perfect match? Only on the Hellmouth.

He shrugged casually; it wouldn’t do to seem too eager. “Yeah, all right. I could do that.” 

He pressed Harris back against Harvey something-or-other’s headstone, and snogged him silly, until Harris was moaning and squirming up against Spike’s thigh like a dog in heat. Taking a step back, he admired his boy. Harris was sprawled against the headstone, eyes half-closed, lips kiss-swollen and red. His jeans and boxers hung around his knees, half-hard cock glistening with spent come, and heavy bruises lay purple and black on his hips. Perfect. Spike was pretty sure he’d had it better at some point, but at the moment, he couldn’t remember when.


End file.
